


sing me to sleep (i don't want to wake up on my own anymore)

by vermontghost



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, O, O (The Master) - Freeform, The Master (Dhawan) - Freeform, Thoschei, quarantine fic, short fic, tenth doctor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermontghost/pseuds/vermontghost
Summary: The tardis lands in Earth in April 2020, and immediately after the doctor and O exit they're rushed away and the tardis dematerializes. They're now forced to quarantine - and the Doctor finds a key in his pocket to a house he once owned in a previous regeneration. They clean the house, and as they're exhausted, it starts to rain.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan), Tenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Tenth doctor & O, Tenth doctor/O
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	sing me to sleep (i don't want to wake up on my own anymore)

The rain trickled down the windows of a dark evening, the only sound the pitter-pattering of it against the cement outside. 

The house belonged to the doctor - one he had bought a long time ago for an occasion he can’t remember. The walls were made of dark oak panels, and the floor was a wood that creaked ever so slightly as he walked on it. 

His linen pajama bottoms trailed against the ground as he wandered, feet cold despite the thick of his socks. He passed pictures and paintings, trailing his fingers along the hallway, dropping his hand to find the doorknob leading to the living room, and he opened the door quietly. 

O was draped across a leather couch, gently snoring, his eyes closed. A teardrop was caught between his lashes, poised like a fragile object that could fall at any second and disappear. For a moment, he just stood there. Afraid to breathe, afraid to cough in case it would wake O with feather-soft messy hair against the pillows. He smiled at the sleeping agent, a smile he reserved only for certain people. A smile that knew none of this would last, and eventually everything would fall to pieces again - but savored the moment like the last drop of chamomile tea. The doctor closed his eyes, capturing an image. 

He noticed the droop of his eyelids, the tire that fell on him like a heavy blanket, the dark circles beneath his eyes. The rug was good enough. He walked (treading quietly) to the ground beside the couch before crouching down and lying down. The ground was hard and frigid, but he’d had worse. He gazed up at the ceiling - a pattern etched into wood, filled with flowers and leaves and gallifreyan. He let his eyes flutter closed.

Suddenly, slowly, O’s sleeping body fell on top of his. 

For a moment, the doctor couldn’t breathe, the air knocked out of him. But eventually, his chest rose and fell. lightly, unnoticeably - as he was afraid to wake the sleeping man on top of him. 

Carefully, he made O comfortable - lifting his hips slowly off of his own, and resting them at his side. They lay sideways, and the agent shifted for a moment, breath still thick with the intoxicating feel of sleep, before resting his head on the doctor’s neck and curling an arm around his side. 

The doctor rested his hand to lie on O’s waist, and he hesitated before inhaling and singing softly under his breath - 

_ “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray.”  _ The sleeping man did not wake. 

_ “You’ll never know dear, how much i love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away.”  _

A second before he fell asleep, he thought he noticed O’s pulse - the  _ onetwothreefour  _ of a double heartbeat. 

But perhaps it was just a dream.

Just a dream.  
  
  
  



End file.
